


I'm Still in Hell

by twyly56



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam Milligan is Not Forgotten, Adam Milligan is Saved, Angels are Dicks, BAMF Adam, Crying, Dark Adam Milligan, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt Adam Milligan, Hurt/Comfort, Knives, Lucifer and Michael (Supernatural) Fight, Nightmares, Restraints, Torture, Visions in dreams, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-04-28 04:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twyly56/pseuds/twyly56
Summary: Adam Milligan: the boy who died for the sins of an absent father, the boy who was pulled out of heaven to be thrust into hell, the boy whose only mistake was trusting in angels. Yes, that boy. Remember him? He's still in hell, being slowly broken by two angry Archangels.Sam has been getting dreams about Adam lately, and none of them are very pleasant. He's full of guilt that his half brother is still in the Cage, but he doesn't know how to help him.When Adam gets mysteriously released from the Cage after over centuries of confinement, it's no wonder that he isn't the same happy go lucky kid he once was.





	1. Where the Hell Are You?

**"He's a Winchester. He's already cursed."**

-Sam Winchester

Adam trembled, arms clenching around his legs in his fetal position. He cried, salty tears leaving clean tracks down his dirt stained face. His body hurt, his mind hurt, his freaking soul hurt. Adam was so damn cold that he felt like he was turning into a human popsicle, blood flavoured. Michael and Lucifer were currently busy fighting each other, so he got a reprieve from their torment. Oh, he hated them so much. 

_Please, God, someone, save me. Please._

Snarls and growls and screeches rang in his ears from the resident Archangels. Adam whimpered in pain when a particularly high pitched noise shattered his ear drums. Blood poured down from his ears and pooled on the ground around his neck. Damn it. That was the fourth time this week. They healed, sure, after while, but it hurt like crazy, and he couldn't hear a thing. He dug his fingers into his naked calves, blood welling into tiny crescents. 

_Mom, I miss you. I miss you._

Adam felt a large hand grab his bruised shoulder, and he yelped, clutching at the floor desperately. He was lifted off the floor effortlessly. His feet kicked out, dangling a foot off the ground, his toes curling in terrified anticipation. His bright blue eyes clashed against the Devil's glaring red orbs. He saw Lucifer's mouth move, and he panicked a bit. Adam had no idea what he was saying, so he would have no heads up as to what new torture would be inflicted on him. 

Lucifer's lips curled into a morbid smirk, and he wrapped a strip from Adam's mutilated shirt around his eyes. His wrists were bound tightly behind him with thick leather straps, ankles pulled to meet his forearms and secured. Where the hell did they get them from, anyway? They always seemed to have a surplus of the things when they wanted to truss him up like a freaking turkey. This position was very uncomfortable, and Adam hated it. He felt so helpless and vulnerable, especially since he couldn't see, couldn't hear. 

Adam felt a hand weave into his light brown hair and jerk his head back, exposing his pale neck. A cold metal blade pressed against his throat, and he realized what was about to happen. It was time to die again today. The blade slowly dug into his flesh. He felt it push through his throat, slicing through his muscles and vocal cords. A wet gurgle erupted from his cracked lips, and blood bubbled out of his mouth. 

_Please, stop. Someone, help me!_

Everything went black. 

 

Adam no longer prayed. He still cried out in his head but to no one in particular. He screamed out loud, too. Until his throat bled on the inside and his voice went hoarse. Sometimes, Lucifer would just shove a wad of leather into his mouth, so his noises would be muffled. Michael never tied him up like Lucifer, but he liked to join in afterwards. Knives, whips, hands, red hot pokers. Maybe some coals if he got creative. This one time, they poured oil over his freshly flogged back and lit him on fire. That had been...horrifying. 

Today he was hiding. When they couldn't find him - they didn't have their Grace accessible for the most part - he was left alone for the duration that he was out of their sight. It was like out of sight, out of mind. He was pressed flush against the dirty cold stone floor. Adam was in this indentation in the floor that made it far more difficult to see him from the level ground. He could hear their inhuman cacophony from there, and he held his hands over his ears. 

  _Run run run away_  
_Meet me in our hiding place_  
_Find me where we'll make our escape_  
  
_Come come come away_  
_We don't need them anyway_  
_Find me where we'll make our escape_  
  
_Slow it down_  
_Cause I can't breathe_  
_So much noise_  
_That I can't see_

Adam hummed along to the tune in his head, shivering on the ground. They were really brutal. Like, if they were human, they would have died from blood loss alone. Sometimes, they cut off each other's limbs. That was always rather disturbing. A loud crash shook the ground beside him, and he pressed himself harder into the floor. 

_Go, go, go away!_

He was twitching so bad right now. Adrenaline and fear flooded his veins, and all he could think was how close his tormentor was. His blue eyes slid shut as he grit his teeth in preparation. 

_Someone, anybody, please, please..._


	2. Straight Out of the Cage

**"Pain: you will always feel it...but you don't have to fear it! Pain. Heartbreak. Loss. Death. It's all good. It's all good."**

-Jim Moriarty [BBC Sherlock]

Adam ran blindly through the endless expanse of darkness that was the Cage. He could go for days and days without stopping, and he would never reach the end. At the same time, it was too small because the Archangels could pick him up and throw him against the bars. Flames licked up at bare feet, burning the skin away. The rest of his body was so cold in contrast. It was awful. Adam heard maddening giggles echo around him. 

His blood slicked feet slipped on the uneven floor, and he fell on his side. Adam winced, his left arm numb with pain. He clawed at the floor, dragging his battered body with his arms as fast as he could. The faint _ting_ of a bell sounded, and all other noises abruptly ceased. Cold sweat rolled down his face. 

Adam looked up from his position on the floor and noticed a tiny glowing ball hanging in front of his face. He frowned at it. What the heck? Adam tentatively reached out his hand. A pleasant warmth spread from the point his fingertips touched it and up his arm. It completely erased the bone deep cold he had been subjected to ever since he entered the Cage. He didn't realize it, but his blue eyes were glowing, too. Adam tugged on the little ball, and it moved easily towards him. Wow. This was pretty cool. 

He felt the strange urge to put it in his mouth, and he did so. It didn't have a flavor, but it was like a melting chocolate against his tongue. He swallowed. The little ball burned a trail as it slid down his throat and settled in his core. Adam heard a whooshing noise, and the world spun around him. He crashed into into wet grass. Wait. Grass? 

Adam looked around, eyes wide. The sky was full of stars, glimmering down at him from the inky blackness, and the moon shone silver light through the thick branches overhead. He drank in the sight of this, nature, so pure and lovely. After all the horror he had seen, this was such a welcome sight. He couldn't stop looking at the sky. It was beautiful. 

_Thank you._

 

Adam had 'found' - _stolen_ \- some clothes from some random guy's house and gotten enough supplies to last him a few weeks on the road. He fixed the guy's leaky faucet for him as a thank you. It seemed he was getting better at stealing because he could just walk past someone and filch their wallet without them even noticing. He didn't particularly like to steal, but he really didn't have any other way to get money. It turns out that the several centuries he had spent in the Cage equaled to eight years here on Earth. 

Eight years. 

He was supposed to be twenty seven years old, not nineteen, but his body hadn't aged a day - which was good, otherwise he'd be ridiculously old - and this raised some complications. He had no papers or identification. He had no job history to refer to. In fact, he had to use a different name when he introduced himself. Adam was rather exasperated about the whole thing. He couldn't go back home; he didn't have home to go back to. Thankfully, he was a very convincing actor. 

Lately, Adam had taken to searching for his half brothers. He had been so angry when that angel came into the Cage and took Sam. They left him! They left him with those...monsters. It made him want to scream and pound his fists on their chests. 

_Why! Why did you leave me? I thought I was your family!_

The little ball still thrummed in his chest. He didn't know what it was, but it felt really nice. So warm. It had done something that saved him, so he left the mystery of it alone for now. It must be a good thing. 

Adam flicked his clear blue eyes up to the man behind the counter and hid a smile behind his coffee mug. The man came out from behind the counter and walked over to him, plopping down in the chair beside him. Adam turned his body to face him. He stretched out his hand in greeting. The man clasped it and pumped it once, twice. 

"Sebastian Moore," the man said, his voice gruff. Adam smiled politely. 

"I am he. Garth Fitzgerald?" 

 "Yes. I had some questions for you, if you feel inclined to answer," Adam said. 

"Sure, man. What can I do for you?" 

"Do you know of the Winchester brothers?" he asked, leaning back in his seat and taking a slow sip of his bitter beverage. 

"The Winchesters? Oh yeah. I mean, who hasn't?" Garth chuckled. "They're probably the most well known hunters on this continent." 

"Yeah. Have you been in contact with them lately? Do you know where I can reach them?" Adam asked. 

"Hmm, not recently. Not for, oh, I think two years is the last time I spoke with 'em. But maybe, they still have the same phone number. I can give it to you. You have a hunt for them or something?" 

"Or something," Adam replied with an easy smile. His expression melted into one of worry and trepidation. Garth's eyes softened. "It is of utmost importance that I reach them." 

"Ah. One of those things, huh? Not a problem, amigo. Lemme just write it out for ya. Do you have a pen?" Adam smiled and produced a black ball pen from his hoodie pocket. Garth thanked him and scribbled out a number on his napkin. He pushed it towards the younger man. 

"Thank you, Mr. Fitzgerald," he said. 

"It was my pleasure. Good luck, man." 

"Thank you," Adam reiterated softly. He folded up the napkin and tucked it into his jean pocket. He slung his pack over his shoulder and walked out the door. 


	3. The Boy With Golden Eyes

**"It's a lot easier to be angry with someone than it is to tell them that you're hurt."**

-Tom Gates

Adam wasn't expecting to be hit over the head with a paper towel dispenser right after dinner the next day, but, Hell, it was just his rotten luck that he did. When he looked up, feeling disoriented and hazy, a portly man with a scruffy brown beard and flat black eyes was glaring down at him. 

"Why isn't it working?" 

Adam impassively flicked his eyes to the demon snarling over him. He tugged his shirt collar down and exposed his collar bone with the anti possession tattoo. The demon hissed in fury. 

"Hunter!" the demon spat. 

"I'm really not. But-" Adam shrugged. The demon lunged for his neck. 

Adam latched his hand onto the demon's bicep and used its momentum to force it to the ground. He flipped them in a smooth motion, so that he was sitting on its chest. Adam grabbed the plastic salt shaker from the table and smashed it over the demon's head. The thin cheap plastic shattered almost instantly. It howled in pain as the salt poured onto its skin, steam rising. He plunged his metal butter knife into the demon's chest, and it screamed. Hot blood bubbled over his bare hand. Adam rose to his feet and dashed out the door, snatching his pack up from his chair on the way. 

He sprinted into the parking lot and kicked in the window of the first car he saw. Ignoring the broken glass, Adam crawled into the car and proceeded to hotwire the car. He barely finished when the demon came storming out of the restaurant. It roared and charged the car he was in. He slammed his foot on the gas, and the car peeled out of the parking lot with the squeal of tires. Adam let out a sigh of relief and winced at the glass digging into the bottom of his thighs. 

 

Adam ditched the car a few miles down the road and walked into the next town. He heard from the local hunters that there was a secret Bunker that the Winchesters were supposed to be staying at. He also heard about a Nephilim being born, the son of Lucifer. The thought of that made him inexplicably anxious, but he shoved it down. He would deal with the Nephilim if it came to that. Hopefully, it wasn't like its father. Adam would have to do something if it was. 

He arrived in Kansas a week later. Hitchhiking was probably a stupid thing to do, but honestly? He doubted that anyone on this Earth could do anything to him that hadn't already been done to him. He just didn't care anymore. Thankfully, the drivers didn't try anything. They were all rather nice guys.

Adam smiled, his unnaturally blue eyes glinting in the early morning sunlight. He tugged the dark cap down over his messy hair and pulled up his hood. He shoved his hands into his oversized hoodie's pockets and walked down into the small town diner. Adam sat down in the corner booth, black coffee in hand, discretely watching people slowly filter into the diner. His heart stopped when he saw who came in next. 

Dean's hair was shorter, his face worn and weary. His emerald eyes were bright, and he was still wearing that atrocious plaid shirt. Sam's hair was longer, falling past his shoulders in chocolate brown waves, and his face was now lined with age and hardship. They were both so much older, it was bizarre. Not that he had expected them to look exactly the same. It had been eight years, after all. A teenage boy with light brown hair and dark eyes was standing with them, and he was looking at everything with an awed expression. It was as if he had never seen the inside of a restaurant before. Castiel, the angel who had thrown a molotov cocktail at Michael when he wore Adam, had his arm reassuringly on the boy's shoulder. 

Adam lowered his eyes to his half empty cup of coffee, and he felt a coil of anger burn in his gut. It might have been a bit of jealousy, he supposed. They looked so happy now. His fists clenched, the knuckles turning white. 

_Guess they moved on, huh?_

He could go up to them. He could. But he wouldn't. Not yet. He just...wouldn't. He wondered how long he could trail them before they noticed him. The thought made him smile a little. That could be fun. 

"What do you want to eat, Jack?" Sam asked. Jack tilted his head, his eyes narrowed at the menu. 

"I do not know. What are 'waffles'?" he asked. Dean waved the waitress over. 

"Three stacks of your pancakes, waffles for this kid, and plain black coffee for me." 

"I would like milk in my coffee, please," Sam informed the woman. She nodded politely, scribbling down their order on her notepad. 

"That all, gentlemen?" 

"Yup. Thanks, sweetheart," Dean said with a wink. 

Adam walked past their table to the trashcan. The boy, Jack, gazed at him, and his eyes flared golden for a split second. Adam felt his irises respond in kind, turning a burning blue before it faded just as quickly. Jack's lips turned up at the edges. He looked away, the heat in his core building, the little ball filled with warmth. Adam left the diner. 


	4. Just a Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Enochian is written in "bold."  
> *Azrael is often depicted in lore as the angel of death and/or retribution.

**“Adam…you may not believe it, but Dad was trying to protect you, keeping all this from you.”**  
**“Yeah well, I guess the monster that ate me didn’t get that memo.”**

-Sam Winchester and Adam Milligan [Season 5 Episode 18: _Point of No Return_ ]

 

Adam was a bit confused when the woman literally walked right into him, knocked him over, and continued on as if nothing had happened. He got up, sending a glare her way, and was knocked over again, this time by an elderly couple. 

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Adam yelled. They walked past him without seeming that they had heard him. 

_What the hell?_

He went over to them and waved his hand in front of their faces. No reaction whatsoever. Adam made an unhappy sound and stalked off. He didn't know what was going on, but it was beyond irritating having to dodge everyone in the street just because they apparently couldn't see him. The ball in his chest became scalding hot in response to his anger, and he removed the clothing on his upper half to keep himself from overheating. It's not like anyone could see him anyway. 

Adam felt something in his back itch, as if it were attempting to claw open his skin. He tried to ignore it, but the pins and needles sensation spread like a wildfire over the entirety of his trapezius and latissimus dorsi muscles. Adam groaned in pain and rolled his shoulders, which only seemed to make it worse. He slammed his fist into the nearest wall, muffling his scream by shoving his other hand into his mouth and biting down until he tasted blood. The brick in the wall crumble a little under the force of his punch, and a tingle ran up his arm, jolting into his protesting muscles. 

**"What are you doing, Brother?"**

Adam spun around, blood dripping down his chin. A man in a neat grey suit stood before him with his head tilted to the side like he confused. A faint image of a pair of brownish red wings were drooping leisurely behind his body, and they seemed to emit a soft white glow. Anger flooded his mind before he could even register anything else. 

An angel. 

**"I am not your Brother,"** Adam snarled. The man frowned at him. 

**"Of course you are. Now, how did you get your wings stuck in your vessel?"**

**"What the fuck are you talking about?"** The angel winced at the curse word. 

**"Language, Brother. Aren't you in pain?"**

He reached forward and placed his warm palm on Adam's bare back. Adam hissed at him, his eyes flaring blue. The angel sent a wave of soothing Grace into Adam, and the ball in his chest greedily sucked it up. His muscles loosened for a moment. Then, they went into overdrive. Adam fell into the angel, sobbing, as his back tore open. Blood dripped down his back, staining his jeans dark. Something burst from his back, and it felt huge and heavy. The pain was gone now. 

Adam panted and shoved the angel away from him, unintentionally sending him flying into the wall. He craned his neck to look behind himself. A pair of ebony black wings extended from his back. The long feathers were dripping with his own blood, coloring the silvery white tips crimson, and they were glossy, glistening in the midday sun. They glowed with an ethereal light, however, not white like the other angel's. It was more of a pale azure light. He looked over to the angel sitting on the ground, dazed.

**"What did you do to me?"** Adam demanded. When the angel just stared at his wings in mute horror, he stepped forward, fury radiating off him in waves. The angel scrambled back. 

**"Forgive me, Azrael! I didn't recognize you! I heard you were dead,"** the angel squeaked. Adam frowned. 

**"Azrael? The angel of death?"** Adam asked.

The angel nodded fervently. The ball warmed in his chest, thrumming with pleasure at the name. Adam shook his head with a smirk, chuckling wryly. He lunged forward and pinned the angel's wrist to the wall, delighting in the shriek of terror. Adam removed the angel blade from the other's sleeve and pressed it to the angel's throat. 

**"Please, please, have mercy, Brother!"** the angel cried. A little voice screamed for him to stop in his head, but a much louder voice howled for blood. Adam smiled coldly. 

**"My name is Adam Milligan, but I'll be your angel of death,"** Adam said. He slashed into his throat and watched in morbid fascination as a brilliant white light flowed from the gash. He moved the blade and plunged it deep into the angel's chest. The scream he made as light flooded out of his body was terrible, loud and unending. But it felt like music to Adam's ears. A pair of soot black wings were imprinted into the floor underneath the vessel's body. 

Adam wiped the blade off on the man's shirt and shoved it into his belt. He slid his shirt and hoodie back on. Apparently, his wings - what a weird thing to say - were intangible, so he could wear clothes. That was nice. Adam walked out of the alleyway and disappeared into the crowd. 


	5. Little Nephilim

****

**"I've read about Hell. It doesn't sound nice."**

-Jack Kline [Season 13]

Wings were strange. He had to carry himself a whole different way now to accommodate their weight, and they kept responding to his emotions, fluttering or shaking. Adam was getting used to them, though. It wasn't so bad, really. They looked pretty cool, once he had cleaned off all the blood. Flying was a definite perk. He wasn't really sure what to make of the whole 'Azrael' thing yet, so he just pushed it into the back of his mind. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. 

Adam was stalking - _trac_ _king_  - his half brothers and their companions currently. They were on a case of some sort. He hadn't cared enough to figure out what exactly what they were doing. But what he did know was that it wasn't a ghoul. 

He _hated_ ghouls. Mostly because one ate him. 

Adam shook his head at the memory, and he adjusted his position on top of the roof. Another great thing about wings. You could go up to high places, no problem. It really helped with his stalking - um, _tracking_. He was invisible again, but he had done it intentionally this time. It turned out he had to just imagine himself reappearing or disappearing to fix it. Pretty neat. 

The boy, Jack, ran out of the building, crying. Despite his recent stoicism and general detachment from things, Adam felt his heart squeeze. The next thing he knew, he was standing beside a kneeling Jack. His wings puffed up and wrapped around the smaller teen, and Adam tugged him into his arms. Jack made a squeaky noise in surprise. 

"Wh-what are you doing?" The boy's eyes were normal brown, no hint of the vibrant gold he had seen earlier. They were also filled to the brim with tears. 

"You're upset," Adam said simply. The boy pushed at him weakly in protest. 

"I need to go. Let me go." 

"Tell me what's wrong first," Adam said. Jack sighed, deflating. 

"Every time I try to do something good, people get hurt," he whispered. Tears dripped down the teen's cheeks. Adam frowned, swiping a thumb to catch the salty fluid. 

"I tried to save my mom once," Adam said. "She died anyway." Jack cried against his chest. 

" _Please_. I need to go." 

"Why?" Adam asked. 

"I need to figure out how to open the rift and get their mom back. It's the only thing that I can do," Jack said. Adam stroked his light brown hair gently. 

"That's not all you can do. You are much more than a pawn." He tilted Jack's head up to look into his wet eyes. "What do _you_ want?" 

"I-I don't know. I just want to help people, but everything I do makes it worse!" 

"I know the feeling. But, see, you are doing good. You're just looking at it the wrong way," Adam said. Jack scoffed self deprecatingly. 

"How? I got someone killed today! Dean was right. I am a monster. Just like Lucifer." 

"From what I've seen? No, no you're not. Believe me. I've spent time in Hell with Lucifer, and you're nothing like him." 

"You've been to Hell?" Jack said, his brows pushing together in confusion. 

"Yeah." Jack tried to pull away from him, but Adam's wings didn't budge. 

"Who are you?" Jack asked. Adam smiled. 

"My name is Adam." 

"I didn't know that there were any angels named Adam," Jack said. 

"There aren't." 

"You feel like one." 

"So they tell me," Adam sighed. "They also call me Azrael." Jack's eyes widened, and the irises sparked gold. 

"Azrael," the Nephilim breathed. Adam rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Yeah. I know. Trippy, huh? Considering I'm no angel." 

"You're not?" 

"No," Adam said. "I kind of hate them, to be honest. So if I was one, heh, that'd be ironic." 

"What are you, then?" 

"Dunno. I was a human, but then, I grew wings."

"Hmm. That is odd." 

_Understatement of the year._

"Why were you in Hell?" Jack asked. Adam looked down at him. 

"Me and some Archangel were going to kill the Devil, but Michael was procrastinating the hell out of it, so Sam overpowered Lucifer and threw all of us in the Cage." 

"...Sam and Dean never told me about that." Adam chuckled wryly. 

"They wouldn't. I was just some vessel, after all." Jack frowned.

"I'm sorry." 

"It's not your fault. Now, are you feeling a bit better?" Jack sniffled, nodding his head. 

"Yes," he replied softly. 

"Good. Are you still going to go look for how to open that rift?" Adam asked. 

"Yes. I need to." Adam pet his head. 

"Don't feel obligated to do so, but if you choose to, then, I won't stop you. Let me know if you need help, hmm?" 

"Thank you, Adam," Jack said. 

"You're welcome." 


	6. The Broken Angel and the Prince of Hell

****

**"It's scary what a smile can hide."**

-Quotesdaily.net

Adam was trying to take a quick catnap when he heard a car pull into the driveway. He raised his head from the makeshift pillow, which was just his jacket balled up. A man with dark hair and dark eyes wearing a black suit got out of the driver's side, and he reached into the passenger's side. He pulled out a squirming smaller figure and began the laborious task of dragging him to the door. The small (man?), who looked like he had just been tortured for years and thrown into a concentration camp or something, fought with him every step of the way, emitting short high pitched whines from his closed lips. 

_Wait a second. Were they...sewn shut?_

"Come on, Gabriel. Just. A. Little. Further," a British voice said, strained as he attempted to tug the smaller man to the door. 

The suited man looked about ready to hit something, he was so irritated at the other's behavior. To Adam, it was so obvious that the small person was traumatized, and this was just about the worst thing that could happen to him. If Suit Guy wanted to help him, he sure was doing it the wrong way. It was just going to freak out the poor person even more. Adam frowned, unfurling his wings and fluttering to the ground. He watched as Suit Guy finally wrestled the person through the front door. Adam sighed, sinking to sit cross legged on the grass. 

Hopefully, _someone_ knew how to appropriately handle the delicate situation in the Bunker. If not, they were seriously going to mess up his mind. 

Adam picked idly at a stray blade of grass, eyes sliding shut as he listened to the steady thrum of the ball's power inside himself. 

 

**_"HELP ME!"_ **

Adam fell out of the tree, clutching at his ears in pain. The scream, desperate, raw, and pleading, hurt so bad. A thin trickle of blood ran down the side of his neck, stemming from his right ear. Adam flung out his wings, and the world spun around him. He landed hard on tiled floor, his boots skidding as he came to a stop. Adam frowned. He was inside...and the only building nearby had been the Bunker. How had he gotten in? There was a ridiculous amount of warding that usually kept him out. 

**"Please, please, help me! Please, please, please..."**

Adam slid the cool metal angel blade into his hand and stalked forward, blue eyes flaring. He looked around the corner and saw a person standing in the middle of the room in an all white suit, looking for all the world that he had just won some sort of prize. A cloud of red smoke tinged with blue flickered over his form before it disappeared. If he squinted, he could see the smoke again, but that was starting to give him a migraine. The unnamed person sent Sam and Castiel to the floor with a casual flick of his hand. 

"You warding wasn't designed for the likes of me, Samuel," the demon drawled, his thick Southern twang slurring his words. "I've come to claim what's mine." 

Adam heard a familiar sounding whine, and his gaze landed on the tortured man. He was backing up into the table, curling into himself, shaking violently. 

**"Please, please, please..."**

"Oh, I missed you, boy." The demon's hand reached for the small figure, and he flinched, a choked sob tearing from his throat. "I'm gonna hafta punish you rather severely." The tortured man whimpered loudly, crying as some lesser demons pulled him up the stairs. The Knock Off Colonel Sanders turned to Sam and Castiel. "And as for you two..." He twisted his hands, and they groaned, their muscles tensing from the invisible force. 

**"No no no no, stop! Please!"**

Adam had had enough of this nonsense by now. He made himself visible, black wings spread wide behind him, and he whistled sharply. The demon's head whipped around. 

"Hey, Kentucky Fried Douche! Hands off!" Adam yelled. 

The demon dropped his hands due to the surprise of Adam's sudden appearance, and the pair on the ground gasped loudly, gulping in air greedily. Sam's eyes were wide in recognition and palpable confusion. The angel beside him just stared at the demon warily. Adam strode forward, swinging the blade in his hand with a sort of practiced ease that his muscles seemed to have. He didn't actually know where that came from. 

"Why, it's a li'l angel!" the demon exclaimed. Adam sneered at him. "What's yur name, boy?" Adam bit his tongue to keep himself from saying his usual response. Best to play along for now. 

"Azrael, at your service," Adam proclaimed, bowing mockingly. Castiel sucked in a harsh breath, his blue eyes snapping to Adam's face. 

"Azrael? I heard ya were dead," the demon said. Adam smirked. With a flick of his wings, he was toe to toe with him. 

"Do you honestly think that you can kill Death's angel?" he asked. The demon's eyes widened, and he looked down. Red was spreading all over that stark white suit of his from where Adam had plunged the blade into his gut. Demonic smoke sizzled from the wound, cracking and sparking. Adam leaned forward and spoke beside the demon's ear. 

"No one messes with my brother," he growled, wrenching the blade up hard into the demon's heart. 

Adam shoved the body off his blade and let it collapse to the floor with dull thud. He looked up and was met with the gazes of Castiel and Sam. And he was certain that the smaller person would be looking at him as well. Adam sighed, flitting up to top of the stairs. The small figure was still struggling against the demons holding him. Adam removed their heads in a surge of anger, and he grabbed onto the person's arm gently. Adam flew to the lower level again. The small man leaned into him with a sob, burying his face into Adam's shirt. 

"A-Adam?" Sam stuttered. Adam's eyes flicked up, his hand softly stroking the tangled hair of the other male. "What happened to you?" 


End file.
